


Just Because You're Paranoid...

by Elise_Davidson



Series: 40 Snapshots [6]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: 15. Lies, 40 Snapshots, F/M, M/M, is it hate or something else, oblivious!Bashir, spying!Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak watches because it interests him, and it often benefits him (and his best "interests" as it were) to be observant.</p><p>He doesn't expect this.</p><p>Implied!Garak/Bashir</p><p>Definite Kira/Dukat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Because You're Paranoid...

**Author's Note:**

> 15\. Lies
> 
> Only beta'd mildly by LegacySoulReaver. Many thanks, man! Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Edited 8/8/16: Combed over it again and fixed a lot of the mistakes and typos.

Garak prided himself on his ability to observe the smaller things in life on DS9—whether it was a Bajoran child ducking his head in deference to an earring or one Klingon _not_ starting a fight with another Klingon simply because they had fought before, Garak tended to see it all.

His cup of raktajino (and yes, he did sometimes enjoy the Klingon-version of coffee) was steaming warm with a heavy-handed dose of yamok sauce as Bashir talked animatedly (if in an attractive human sort of way) in front of him about the gossip from the nurses.  Garak nodded and “hm’d” in the right places, listening for the right words.

“—and then, wouldn’t you _believe_ it, Major Kira needed a _painkiller_ ,” Bashir said, his eyes alighting in a way Garak found particularly pleasing.

Garak leaned forward, trying to engage the young doctor’s attention.  “So you say!” he replied enthusiastically.  “And what, exactly, did our good Major need something so simple as a painkiller for?”

Bashir snorted into his cup of dragon-eye tea.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she strained a muscle during a…strenuous activity.”

“Perhaps she has found a new sport in the holosuite?” Garak suggested, because he knew the benefit of letting others flesh out the lines.

Bashir seemed unaware of the probing line, but entirely aware of patient-doctor confidentiality.  “I couldn’t say,” Julian responded, but his fingers twitched—right alongside the ring and middle fingers of both hands—around his cup.

Garak smiled broadly.  “I hear many folks have similar issues aboard this station…with, however, the unconceivable exemption of yourself, my dear doctor.”

Julian’s cheeks ran red at that, something Garak always appreciated in a human, but the doctor said nothing before nudging the remains of his cranberry-orange scone towards the Cardassian.

Garak really did not care for scones—especially those of the fruity variety—but he recognized the human gesture for what it was and accepted it.  “Thank you,” he said cheerfully, in a successful effort to waylay the doctor’s suspicions.

“You’re quite welcome,” Julian replied, cheeks still red and eyes ducked away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next time Garak wanted any information concerning the good Major and the not-so-good Gul, Kira and Dukat were arguing loudly on the top level of the promenade.

“It would take a vole biting it into your _side_ before you got what I’m talking about, _Dukat_!” She spat his name out as if it were hasperat gone bad.

Dukat tried for amused, but it came off more as little-boy-lost, something Garak could recall from Dukat’s intelligence training for the military.  “Oh, Major,” Dukat cajoled, but his tone held a delicious tension that Garak thirsted for.  “You truly don’t understand, do you?”

Kira glared at him fiercely, her dark eyes blazing with rebellion.  “Understand _this_ , Dukat,” she snapped and flipped a rude gesture that Garak could only guess she had gotten from the Delta Quadrant, because really, Garak had seen many things, but nothing so much as a hatefully made hand motion that Dukat clearly did not understand.

“ _Major_ ,” Dukat whined after her.

Garak didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but then again, he didn’t have to.  He could fill the lines in for himself, and the lines that wouldn’t—well, he could pass the time by talking to the doctor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Garak was hoping that the good doctor would meet him in this random, tucked-away corridor of Terok Nor (well, it’s Deep Space 9 now, but Garak was never about the semantics) when he finally got the confirmation that settled sweet and low in his chest.

He stayed in the shadows, listening to the hissed words of hate and angry retaliations.  Really, Garak thought, it was _obscene_ by Cardassian standards.  But here he sat, carefully controlled as arousal pooled deep and watched as Dukat and Kira argued in a dark, out of the way hall of DS9 ( _Terok Nor_ ).

Garak couldn’t hear the words.  He didn’t really care to; he could read their body language clearly enough.  Dukat nor Kira were backing down, both in each other’s faces and personal space.  Dukat seemed to be spouting some nonsense about a relationship; Kira snapped back that she wanted nothing to do with him.

Again, Garak really didn’t pay attention; he wasn’t paid by the word.

He was, however, paid by the action.

Kira punched Dukat when he kissed her, but then she whirled on the spot, slamming Dukat against the wall and scrunching his short dark hair within her skinny Bajoran fingers (as if she ever had a _chance_ against besting a Cardassian in strength alone).  Dukat's body language drew Garak's attention in that the military man   _let_ her shove him to a wall.

Garak watched in silence, hidden in the shade of DS9 ( _Terok Nor_ ) as Dukat seemed to abruptly submit, his head falling back in action with Kira’s death grip, his legs falling closed so Kira could open hers around him, her hands falling over the scales of his neck and shoulders. Dukat's hand raised suddenly.

 _There_ it was.

Garak held back the breath of surprise when he finally found the action he had been waiting for—Dukat reached up, almost…well, almost _tenderly_ to let a gray finger fall down Kira’s ridged nose.  Tears streaked with make-up tunneled tracks of black across Kira’s cheeks.

“ _Why_ would you do that?” came Kira’s vicious query.

Dukat shrugged, as if the _why_ were unimportant.  “Because I wanted to,” he replied simply, and dragged his finger down the ridges of her nose again before letting his fingers tangle lightly with her earring.

Kira shoved him, kissed him savagely, as if trying to bring violence into the equation.  “ _Stop_ ,” she hissed.

“Make me, Major,” Dukat whispered just as softly, but with no less intensity.

Garak watched in fascination as Dukat found a way around the Bajoran militia uniform and fucked Kira against the wall.  He observed the reluctance, the physical compatibility, and even the desire before he deemed it necessary to turn away.

There were no private moments in Cardassia—everything was just a show.

As Garak walked alone to his quarters though, he couldn’t help thinking that what had just happened  as most certainly _not_ a show.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Garak woke the next morning, he realized what had bothered him so much about witnessing Dukat and Kira’s encounter.  It wasn’t the truth, really—he had no doubt that Dukat lusted after Kira with a passion and that Kira hated Dukat with an equal amount of passion.

What bothered Garak was that physically, they were perfect for each other.  It was only the lies they both told each other that kept them from realizing it.

And that was how Garak found himself kissing the life out of Julian Bashier on the good doctor’s doorstep at (Earth time) 4:21 in the morning.  After all, life was too short for _too_ many lies.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Author's Note:**

> As the author, I recommend you read the next, 16. Truth, as they are companion pieces.


End file.
